


It Snakes All Over Like a Jelly Fish

by MnemonicMadness



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Adorkable, Aziraphale doesn't know how to snake, Bodyswap, Crowley is supportive and in love, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Well - Freeform, both of them are dorks, mostly comfort, of the celestial variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:03:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22711927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MnemonicMadness/pseuds/MnemonicMadness
Summary: Aziraphale borrows Crowley's corporation again, to give being a snake a try.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 54
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	It Snakes All Over Like a Jelly Fish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talkingtothesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/gifts).

> The title is (except for switching one letter because far be it from me to resist an opportunity for a terrible pun) from Crazy Little Thing Called Love. Queen, of course :D

While figuring out the change itself has proved a little trickier than expected, Aziraphale is quite pleased with himself when, once he does manage, he finds himself having a much more reasonable size than the one Crowley will usually employ to protect Aziraphale’s books from customers with ill intent [*]. Regaining his bearings from the sudden shift in position, size, and species goes quicker than one might expect, since fortunately, Aziraphale has forgotten than ordinarily, a snake’s – demonic or otherwise – vision ought to work quite differently from a humanoid’s.

As it is, he now finds himself looking up at his own corporation, currently occupied by Crowley, from the seat of the sofa, while Crowley gives him an emboldening smile.

“Right then. Now, that wasssn’t too difficult, I’d sssay.” he mutters – hisses – to himself. The words feel awkward on the split tongue, reluctant to be forced out through pointy, reptilian teeth. And wait, _hisses?_ Also forgetting in the heat of the moment that snakes cannot frown, Aziraphale frowns. “Oh dear. However do you manage with thisss?”

“I’ve had over six thousand years of practice. You’re doing great, angel!”

“Oh, thank you, dearest. But I haven’t done all that much yet.”

Next, he concentrates on moving. The lack of extremities is rather disconcerting, as is the sheer number of joints. He focuses, attempting to catalogue all of them, and the corresponding muscles, but the way his tongue keeps insisting on flickering out distracts him, until he decides that learning by doing might be a better idea after all. His tail twitches.

“See? Told you you’d figure it out in no time!” Crowley encourages him proudly.

After sparing a moment for a grateful glance in response, Aziraphale resolves that he might as well try this properly. He has seen Crowley move in this form countless times, an elegant, smooth slither of shimmering black scales. Of course, aiming for Crowley’s elegance would be a hopeless endeavour, but he firmly tells himself that nonetheless, it doesn’t look too difficult, certainly the lack of extremities should simplify matters rather than the opposite, so surely, surely he will manage a small slither?

And indeed, as he tenses and curves the long, narrow shape, it instinctively winds in the right way and he feels the surface of the sofa move underneath him. His moment of triumph is short lived, however. It isn’t a small slither as he’d expected, but rather a medium-sized one, and the way his head suddenly moves to the side when he doesn’t abort the motion in time emphatically does not help his disorientation.

In all the hassle, he doesn’t consider that he is currently on the rather small surface of a sofa seat, a sofa which is also occupied by an occult being in an ethereal corporation, and as such, he is quite startled when his snoot boops into the side of a thigh. At which point the attempted slithering turns into flailing, regardless of the lack of limbs to flail with, until the surface of the sofa suddenly curves away underneath him.

Evidently, inevitably, while the lack of really rather useful things such as arms and hands does not impede the flailing, it does make attempting to grab onto something to prevent himself from slipping off the sofa impossible.

So that is precisely what occurs, accompanied by an alarmed shout of “Angel?!” from above him, and then his scales acquaint himself rather unpleasantly with his floorboards.

When he regains his bearings, Crowley has leant forward, peering down at him worriedly, hands hovering nervously above Aziraphale.

“Aziraphale? You alright? Are you hurt? Is everything okay? Can I…?”

Fine, is what he intends to say. A hissed “Fffuck.” is what slips out instead.

Delight momentarily crosses Crowley’s expression, before it morphs into further alarm. “Angel? Is there anything I…?

“Not to worry, dear boy, it’sss all tickety- boo. I do apologise.” he hurries to reassure his demon, relieved that snakes can’t flush with embarrassment, although clearly the feeling nonetheless shows in his borrowed voice.

“Y’know, that’s happened to me all the time at first. It’s a big change, going from wings and limbs and all the eyes and all that to long and… slithery, and you’re really doing great for your first try, angel, it just takes a bit of getting used to, all the joints, and the… uh… snakeiness...”

Even though he recognises it for the attempt to cheer him up that it is, and he does find it quite sweet of Crowley, he can’t help but imagine his beloved demon in those early days after the Rebellion. Cut off from the heavenly light, hurt, alone, thrust into an unfamiliar shape… His head droops, tongue flickering out sadly.

“I’m sssorry, my dear, perhapsss thisss wasssn’t sssuch a good idea, we shhhould...”

“No, angel, no. Well, I mean. If you want to switch back now, we can. It’s just. Wait. There are good things about being a snake too, let me just… Can I?”

The hands still hovering above him move closer. Aziraphale’s motion is more an approximation of a nod than an actual nod, but Crowley understands it well enough, and a moment later, those hands brush against his scales, carefully wrap around him, and gently pick him up from the floorboards. He expects to be set down once more on the free end of the sofa, so it’s a surprise when instead, Crowley seems to settle himself down more comfortably, and pulls Aziraphale close, setting him down on his lap instead.

More precisely, on the tartan tweed clad, left thigh of Aziraphale’s corporation. A very soft, very roomy, very _warm_ thigh. This time, moving comes easily, instinct and muscle memory, and without conscious thought, Aziraphale finds himself curled up into a neat roll, head comfortably resting on the nearest of his coils, the rest of his underbelly pressed closely to the lovely soft warmth beneath him.

He has never been ashamed of or bothered by or felt insecure over his corporation’s appearance, or any other such silly sentiments. It’s a very comfortable corporation to live in, and he has been perfectly content to think of himself as looking somewhat unremarkable. As flattered as he is by how Crowley regards him, he has never quite understood it, never truly known why he’d so often find himself with a hand caressing or gripping onto his thigh, or with Crowley’s snake form curled around him.

But _now…_

“Oh!” he sighs in delighted surprise, catching a glimpse of Crowley’s familiar grin on what are usually his own features.

“’s good, isn’t it?”

“Thank you, Crowley, thisss isss very niccce, yesss!”

There is no counting the number of times Aziraphale has settled down with a nice book to lose himself in, only to find that at some point, his lap has been occupied by a napping snake, something he’s always been happy to indulge for however long the book lasts. But he’s never truly understood it until now. The softness of the tweed and the thigh itself against his scales, the warmth seeping into him. A nap does sound rather lovely now. He briefly wiggles with the contentment of it, then settles down even more comfortably.

“See? Told you there are perks. Wait. Angel? Aziraphale? You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?”

“Zzz.”

* AKA intent to purchase a book [return to text]


End file.
